I Can’t Operate on This Failure

I can’t just borrow the words of a song
but she gave me pale shelter
so how can I be sure it means anything at all

cold hands and cold comfort
cold is what you feel in the shadows
of someone who only throws shade
by their hand which reaches out
was it to help me rise
or to give a pat on the head?

Jo had me believe I’d hallucinated my own memories
lit the gas lamp, like the old play
it burned
she helped her
didn’t want to hear it
I’m sure she still wouldn’t
which is fine, I’m through talking

I’m through talking about the most massive loss I’ve ever felt
my true family, the one who never paid lip service
the one always there to truly lift me up
to whom I am forever in her debt
now I’ve fallen
I’m through talking
to someone only concerned with the loss of her human crutch

I’m leaving the pedestal, and honestly, I hope it falls
for her sake and anyone beneath it
her spotlight burns my eyes
and so I turn away

The Heroine

It’s no joke, not hyperbole to say
she’s saved my life before
that she pulled me away from death

Now she stands in the path of her own train
transfixed by its headlights
unable, unwilling to move

They tell me she has to just kick that train away,
to kick a train off its tracks
with legs barely strong enough to walk

But what would you do, if she were your sister?
What if she meant that much to you?
If you knew you couldn’t push, pull, drag her
from its undeniable path?
If the only options were to clutch her
and be crushed with her, to be ruined,
or to watch?
would you scream for her to run, futilely?
would you turn away?
would you even have a choice?